


Soft Heart

by octoberfeeling



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I love my best friend, Original work - Freeform, and she reblogged one of those "write a book description of me" things on tumblr, so i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberfeeling/pseuds/octoberfeeling
Summary: One interaction that changed a life forever.





	Soft Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My best friend Gabrielle reblogged a prompt to write a description of her as if it was an introduction to her character in a book, and I wanted to surprise her! So here is this thing! I'm pretty proud of it! Enjoy!

Soft-hearted people are easy to spot. They ask questions and care about the answers. They always have impeccable taste in music. Books. Sweaters. Socks. They care deeply about all animals in existence.

They notice the tiniest details, the little lovely pieces of you that perhaps you had not yet allowed yourself to recognize.

Soft-hearted people feel pain differently than most. And often, sadly, _more_ than most. They feel everything like the pull of a wave against the back of your legs as it returns from sand to sea, trying to drag you with it.

You could say that soft-hearted people are the type to wear their hearts on their sleeves; you can see all of these feelings and more in their eyes.

I knew the minute I saw her, tenderly caressing the spines of each individual book on the shelf with delicate, paper-white fingers as if each one was a long lost love, that she had the softest of hearts. She couldn’t have been any taller than five and a half feet, if that. She was slight, and wore a cream-colored sweater that may as well have been a swimming pool. It suited her perfectly. I wondered for a moment if she made it herself. Her brown hair fell to the small of her back in a gentle wave. Her mystifyingly wide and deep brown eyes were framed by round wire-rimmed glasses which slid incessantly down her nose, only to be nudged back up again.

It was almost heartbreaking to interrupt her reunion with the pages, spines, ink. But I had to know her name. I knew somehow that this interruption would be essential to my continued existence, and one of the most meaningful decisions I would make in my life.

“Sorry--” I began. She practically leapt out of her shoes. (Soft-hearted people tend to get lost in their own worlds, too.) She looked at me with doe-like eyes, but didn’t say anything, so I continued, “I just adore your sweater.”

She lit up. “Thank you!” she gushed. “I’m Gabrielle, by the way.”

My life was forever changed by this soft-hearted girl.


End file.
